


Control Issues

by enigmaticblue



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you’re going to get kidnapped, it’s best to get kidnapped with Black Widow. It’s worst to be the one to be left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control Issues

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt, "kidnapping"

Bruce picks up his phone absently when it rings, without looking at the caller ID. “Banner.”

 

“Dr. Banner.”

 

Bruce doesn’t have to ask who it is. He recognizes Director Fury’s distinctive voice immediately. “Director,” he replies evenly.

 

Tony goes on alert across the room, dropping what he’s doing and approaching Bruce’s workstation. Bruce waves him off, but that’s no deterrent to Tony.

 

“You’re going to the conference in Houston next week,” Fury says.

 

“The symposium,” Bruce corrects. “And I had made a conditional agreement. I still haven’t sent confirmation.”

 

“You’re not hearing me,” Fury replies. “You’re going to the conference in Houston next week.”

 

That gets Bruce’s back up. “I don’t remember being on your payroll.”

 

“Someone wants you, Dr. Banner,” Fury says. “They want you very badly.”

 

Bruce frowns. “So I don’t go.”

 

“I’m sending Agent Romanoff with you,” Fury continues, as though Bruce hasn’t said anything. “Better to control this where we can, and draw them out into the open. You don’t want to risk anyone else’s life, do you? Like your new lab partner’s?”

 

“And what happens when the Other Guy breaks Houston?” Bruce asks. “Agent Romanoff isn’t going to be able to help much if they come after me, and I lose control.”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows, motioning for Bruce to talk. Bruce waves him off again.

 

“You have control,” Fury argues. “And let me ask you this: would you rather someone try to kidnap you when you’re with Agent Romanoff, or when you’re with Tony Stark?”

 

“That’s not a fair question,” Bruce says. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

 

“Agent Romanoff will see to that,” Fury promises. “I think this is the best chance we have of drawing these people into the open with minimum collateral damage.”

 

Bruce closes his eyes. “All right. How does this work?”

 

“You’ll go to the conference, and Agent Romanoff will be your date,” Fury insists. “She’ll attend under the name Natalie Rushman, and she’ll meet your flight at the Houston airport. If they try anything, it will be at the hotel, during the conference. There will be more cover that way.”

 

“Fine,” Bruce agrees. He’s more worried about collateral damage from the Other Guy than kidnappers, since there’s not much that can hurt him. “Do we know who’s making the threat?”

 

“Not yet,” Fury replies. “Be on that flight, Dr. Banner.”

 

Tony’s right in his face when Bruce puts down his phone. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing is wrong,” Bruce says automatically.

 

“That was Fury,” Tony argues. “He wanted something. What was it?”

 

Bruce sighs. “He wants me to go to the symposium in Houston.”

 

“And?”

 

“And there’s apparently been some sort of threat,” Bruce says. “Something about kidnapping. Fury says that if I go, we’ll be able to keep it under control.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows go straight up. “You’re trusting SHIELD now?”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “No. He’s sending Natasha with me, and I trust her. I’ll be safe enough. Fury thinks they’ll have more control this way, than if they tried something on the street.”

 

Tony looks away, obviously unhappy. “Sure, of course. Maybe I should go with you.”

 

“Natasha’s going as my date,” Bruce replies. “I don’t think that’s going to work. Besides, you being there just means it’s a bigger target. Me and Iron Man?”

 

Tony nods. “You’re right. Of course.”

 

Bruce frowns uncertainly. “Tony, I’ll be fine.”

 

Tony smiles, quick and patently insincere. “I know.”

 

“I’ll keep in touch,” Bruce promises, reaching out to close his hand around Tony’s wrist, feeling Tony’s pulse; it’s just a little too fast. Tony is clearly freaked out. “Hey, I’ll be okay. You know me. Mr. Indestructible. The biggest worry is if the Other Guy makes an appearance.”

 

Tony waves a hand. “Yeah, I know. And you’ll be with Natasha. She’s the best. I’ve got it.”

 

Bruce tugs on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Come on,” Bruce cajoles. He’s not used to having Tony’s sulking directed at him. “Talk to me.”

 

“I might if you’d sleep with me,” Tony mutters.

 

“That’s blackmail.”

 

“I never claimed that I didn’t play dirty,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce rubs his forehead with his free hand. “You know why I won’t sleep with you.”

 

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Because you’re an idiot.”

 

Bruce laughs. “I think we both know that’s not true. I’m a rebound.”

 

“You’re not,” Tony shoots back.

 

“I’m not the kind of guy who has any kind of relationship, let alone a romantic one.”

 

“What do you call this?” Tony demands, motioning between them.

 

Bruce sighs. “We’re friends, Tony. I followed you to California, didn’t I? That should be enough.”

 

“There could be other benefits,” Tony replies hotly, pulling free of Bruce’s grasp.

 

Tony’s suggesting that they upend their perfectly comfortable relationship for something a lot more problematic; Bruce isn’t sure he’s willing to risk it.

 

“Maybe after I get back,” Bruce hedges. “If you’re still interested, I’ll go with it.”

 

“You don’t feel the same?”

 

“Of course I do,” Bruce shoots back. “Damn it, Tony. I just don’t want to be one of your conquests.”

 

“You’re my lab partner! You’re not…” Tony trails off.

 

Bruce nods. “Okay. When I get back. If you still want to.”

 

“I’ll want to,” Tony assures him. “Trust me on that.”

 

Bruce nods. “Trust you. I do.”

 

“And yet you’re still balking.”

 

“I’m being cautious,” Bruce counters. “Which you wouldn’t know anything about.”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows and snorts. “Seriously? Pot, kettle.”

 

That breaks the tension, and they both laugh, sharing a conspiratorial look.

 

“You’re not showing much caution now,” Tony points out. “Risking a kidnapping attempt? The security in the Tower is the best.”

 

“Hey, this is the best, safest option to catch these guys,” Bruce says. He doesn’t want to risk Tony; he _won’t_ risk Tony, no matter how selfish that makes him. “You know me, you know Natasha. We’re good.”

 

Tony nods. “You’re the best.”

 

“We’ll talk about this when I get back,” Bruce promises.

 

There’s a hint of vulnerability in Tony’s expression when he asks, “You’ll stay in touch while you’re there, won’t you?”

 

“You got it,” Bruce promises.

 

Tony nods. “I’m going to grab more coffee. Interested?”

 

“Sure,” Bruce says, and watches him go, wondering what he’d missed in that conversation.

 

Pepper walks into the lab after a couple of minutes. “Is Tony here?”

 

“He was,” Bruce replies carefully. He likes Pepper, and he thinks she likes him, but they haven’t quite worked out what they are to each other. Especially since he’s pretty sure Pepper knows Tony’s been trying to talk Bruce into sleeping with him. “I think he needed a minute.”

 

Pepper frowns. “What happened?”

 

Bruce hesitates, and then decides that he could use the inside look into Tony’s brain. “Short story—Fury wants me to go to the conference in Houston next week to play bait for a kidnapping attempt, and he’s sending Natasha with me.”

 

Pepper gives him an incredulous look. “And you’re going along with it?”

 

“It’s that, or they come after me when I’m with—” Bruce hesitates. “With someone I care about.”

 

“And you don’t care about Natasha?” Pepper counters.

 

“I think Natasha is probably the best person suited to be with me in such an event,” Bruce admits.

 

Pepper offers him a warm smile. “You mean you don’t want Tony around.”

 

“Fury thinks this is going to be the best option,” Bruce argues. “And I don’t trust him, but I trust Natasha, and I don’t want to—” Bruce takes a deep breath. “I’m taking the threat seriously. That’s why I’m going now. If someone tries to grab me, I don’t want Tony caught in the crossfire. I don’t want anyone caught in the crossfire, but at least Natasha is—you know. Who she is.”

 

Pepper nods. “You think Fury has the best plan.”

 

“It’s either do this or start running again,” Bruce admits. “And I don’t want to do that. I have to face this.”

 

Pepper smiles, her expression sympathetic. “And you will.”

 

“I know Tony’s upset,” Bruce says. “I get that he doesn’t want me in danger, but there seems to be a little more to it than that.”

 

“How much do you know about Afghanistan?” Pepper asks.

 

Bruce frowns. “He was captured and missing for three months.” The pieces fall into place. “Oh. Wow. That was stupid of me.”

 

“There’s a reason Tony takes kidnapping threats very seriously,” Pepper replies. “Just promise you’ll be careful.”

 

“Very,” Bruce promises. “I have good reason to be careful now.”

 

Pepper nods. “When he comes back, tell him I was looking for him.”

 

“Sure,” Bruce promises, and feels the warm press of Pepper’s hand on his shoulder.

 

He can do careful for Tony.

 

~~~~~

 

When Fury calls Natasha into his office, she knows she’s not going to like her assignment; if it had been a typical op, he would have passed the word along through the chain of command, and Natasha would have shown up where directed.

 

“Banner is going to a conference,” Fury says without preamble. “I want you to go with him.”

 

Natasha frowns. “Why me?” She’s comfortable enough with Fury to ask that question, and she knows the “why” is often just as important to the overall mission as the “who” and “where” and “how.”

 

“There’s been some chatter about acquiring Dr. Banner,” Fury says readily. “You’re the best I’ve got, and I’m not willing to risk anybody getting their hands on the Hulk.”

 

He leaves unsaid what that would look like, but Natasha can fill in the blanks for herself.

 

She’s still not entirely sure what to think about Bruce Banner. She likes him well enough, but he’s not entirely safe, and he’s one of the few people who has been able to manipulate her in recent memory. Plus, Natasha has to rely on Bruce’s control of himself, which isn’t always reliable.

 

Natasha likes being in control of all situations, and the Hulk is nothing if not volatile.

 

Still, she knows Fury’s right; they can’t risk the Hulk falling into enemy hands, and she _is_ the best. Moreover, she’s certain that she has a better handle on dealing with Bruce than any other SHIELD agent.

 

She’ll be polite and completely honest for a change, and she’ll treat Bruce with kid gloves. With luck, she’ll deal only with him, and won’t have to see his alter ego.

 

Fury promises to break the news that she’d be attending with Bruce as his bodyguard, and Fury sends word that Bruce would be expecting her to meet him. Her cover as Natalie Rushman is still intact, and she flies to Houston for the conference, arriving at the airport just an hour before Bruce lands, stationing herself near his gate.

 

Bruce’s gray suit is rumpled, his hair disordered, but he smiles with real warmth when he spots her. He stumbles a bit over her name, but he gets it right. “N-Natalie.”

 

She presses a chaste kiss to his lips, a reminder of the game they’re to play. “Thanks for letting me tag along,” she says, speaking as much of the truth as she can. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

 

Bruce holds out his arm for her to take, and they go to collect their bags. “I was a little surprised when I got the invitation to speak,” Bruce admits. “And then when I got the director’s call, I wasn’t sure what to think.”

 

“Let’s hope our precautions turn out to be unnecessary,” Natasha replies in a low voice, leaning in close, giving the appearance of intimacy, and Bruce plays along, although he’s a little stiff under her touch.

 

“That would be good,” Bruce agrees, putting a hand over hers, his lips tilting up a bit. “Tony’s already a little worried.”

 

The way Bruce says it causes Natasha’s eyebrows to go up. “Hm.”

 

Bruce glances at her. “What?”

 

“I’m surprised he didn’t try to come along,” Natasha observes.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I convinced him that having Iron Man with me might present too tempting a target.”

 

“And that worked?” Natasha asks, well aware of how difficult it is to convince Tony of anything.

 

Bruce smiles. “It helped that your cover required me coming unattached.”

 

“Was he jealous?” Natasha asks knowingly.

 

Bruce gives her a look that’s half amused, half exasperated. “Maybe a little,” he admits.

 

She laughs. “I hope you don’t mind the accommodations.”

 

“Not the first time I’ve shared a bed or a room,” Bruce assures her, although he looks a little uncertain. “And it’s usually been under worse circumstances. I understand that you need to stay close.”

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’d done this before,” Natasha says, keeping her tone carefully complimentary.

 

Bruce shrugs, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I’m used to flying under the radar.”

 

Since Bruce’s identity isn’t widely known, he’s apparently been successful, certainly more so than Steve or Tony—and Bruce is definitely more cooperative than Tony. She’s beginning to think this might not be a bad assignment after all.

 

They arrive at the hotel in time for the keynote address and dinner, and Natasha doesn’t even have to feign interest, because the speaker is engaging. It’s easy to slip into the role of the dutiful girlfriend, touching Bruce’s arm at frequent intervals, or leaning against his shoulder, keeping it low key. Bruce does his part, responding cautiously, but realistically.

 

Natasha sees the looks they get, many of them frankly envious, and she tries not to look smug. Her cover depends on everyone buying them as a couple, and while Bruce is playing along, she’s the one who has to sell it.

 

Everyone here will believe that Bruce is with _her_ , but they’ve got to believe that Natasha is here with Bruce, and that depends on her giving the appearance of intimacy without making Bruce too uncomfortable.

 

They get through the keynote and retreat to their shared room, both of them taking in the king-sized bed.

 

“I can take the floor,” Bruce offers. “If you want.”

 

Natasha shakes her head. “I think it’s big enough for both of us.”

 

Bruce shifts nervously. “If that won’t make you uncomfortable.”

 

What makes Natasha uncomfortable is the fact that Bruce could turn into an enormous green rage monster—in Stark’s words—if he’s unhappy. Asking Bruce to sleep on the floor is a risk she doesn’t want to take.

 

“I think we can behave like adults,” Natasha replies. “Don’t you?”

 

Bruce smiles hesitantly. “Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

 

Sharing quarters with him is fairly painless. He’s quiet and polite and deferential, careful of her space, and respectful of her silence. Natasha stretches out on the bed to catch up on emails and read mission briefings while Bruce types away furiously on his laptop at the small table in the corner. Natasha notices that he’s texting frequently, even going so far as to chuckle out loud a couple of times. She suspects he’s talking to Tony, but she doesn’t ask.

 

It’s late when they both turn in, keeping to their sides of the bed. She sleeps lightly, as she always does on a mission, alert to any noise. Bruce is a quiet sleeper, curled up in a ball under the covers.

 

Natasha has certainly had worse nights while on a mission.

 

Bruce is slated to present the next day, and he emerges from the bathroom that morning fully dressed in a black suit and deep burgundy shirt.

 

“Tony made over your wardrobe, didn’t he?” Natasha asks, unable to resist the urge to tease him a bit.

 

Bruce runs his hands over the front of his jacket. “Uh, that obvious?”

 

“Only to me,” Natasha replies with a smile. “You look good.”

 

“Thanks,” Bruce replies, scratching the back of his neck. “I think that’s sort of the point. To presenting. And I’m pretty sure Pepper helped.”

 

“She has good taste,” Natasha agrees. “What’s your presentation on?” She doesn’t have to feign interest at this point; she’s curious for her own sake.

 

“Anti-electron collisions and high energy decay,” Bruce says. “It’s probably boring if you’re not a nuclear physicist.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve sat through worse,” she replies and means it. She’d planned on telling the truth as much as possible, knowing how badly Bruce responds to lies and manipulation, and she’s sat through some pretty boring meetings in the past.

 

Bruce’s presentation isn’t as dull as it could have been, mostly because his passion for the subject bleeds through. His face is flushed, his hands gesture wildly, and Natasha can see that he’s in his element.

 

When he’s done, there’s polite applause that edges towards enthusiasm. Natasha suspects that’s about as good as anybody gets at a conference for physicists. Bruce takes his seat next to her, and Natasha puts her hand on his forearm. Bruce smiles at her, and then turns his attention back to the next speaker, who drones on in a monotone.

 

Only Natasha’s training keeps her awake and alert, mostly by scanning the room and looking for threats. She’s incredibly grateful when the presentation is over, and they break for lunch.

 

“I think Tony’s rubbed off on me,” Bruce says in a low voice as they leave the main conference room.

 

Natasha glances at him, greatly amused. “How’s that?”

 

“That was the most boring presentation I’ve ever attended,” Bruce admits. “But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been that bored before Tony.”

 

She smiles. “He’s been a bad influence on you.”

 

“Sometimes,” Bruce agrees. “Sometimes I’m a good influence on him, though.”

 

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Natasha jokes, deciding that she can use jokes to build the connection between them.

 

Bruce chuckles, and guides her toward the elevators. “Do you mind if we go back to the room? I’d like to get rid of this tie at least.”

 

“No, not at all,” she assures him.

 

Bruce checks his phone again in the elevator, grinning at whatever he sees, although he tucks his phone in his pocket. “You’re not going to answer that?” Natasha asks, amused.

 

“It will be good for him to wait a bit,” Bruce replies, a hint of mischief in his expression. “I’ll answer once we get up to the room.”

 

Natasha’s smiling when they exit the elevator on their floor, emerging into a deserted hallway. Some sixth sense has her hackles rising, and she keeps her hand near her weapon. She’s half-expecting the soft footfalls, but it’s already too late when she hears a hiss at the same time. She hadn’t been expecting gas, and maybe she should have, but that’s a regret for later.

 

By the time she’s whirled, gun in hand, she knows it’s too late; without masks, there’s no way to protect themselves. She’ll kick herself for that later, and Fury will write a memo about how all SHIELD agents should carry rebreathers, and Stark will create masks that are so lightweight they fit in the smallest clutch.

 

But for that moment, there is only a sickly sweet smell, and her breath catching in her throat, and Bruce collapsing in front of her, and the taste of regret.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony tells himself that fifteen minutes isn’t long enough to start panicking.

 

He knows Bruce’s schedule, and he knows Bruce has to be through the morning session by now. Still, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that Bruce might be in the middle of something and unable to answer right away.

 

Tony checks his phone again and reads Bruce’s last message: _Think it went okay. Guy after me gave most boring presentation ever though_.

 

Tony had sent back, _Wish I was there?_

 

And he hasn’t received a response. Tony would be hurt if he weren’t so worried.

 

After thirty minutes, Tony texts, _Respond, you bastard. I’m worried._

 

Forty-five minutes pass, with Tony making four calls, and all of them eventually ringing through to voicemail. Tony has Jarvis track Bruce’s phone after the fourth, and he doesn’t care what kind of a creepy stalker that makes him.

 

“Dr. Banner’s phone is still in his hotel,” Jarvis says.

 

“What about Agent Romanoff’s phone?” Stark asks.

 

He’s not supposed to be able to track SHIELD agents like that, but Tony’s left a backdoor on all the phones he’d shipped to SHIELD, knowing it might come in handy.

 

“Also at the hotel,” Jarvis responds.

 

“Any word?” Tony asks.

 

“Nothing I can access,” Jarvis replies.

 

Tony scrubs his hands over his face. “Okay. Okay. Get the suit ready. I’ll give it another thirty minutes. Worst case scenario, I look like an idiot.”

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Jarvis points out helpfully.

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

Fifteen minutes goes by, and Tony tries again. _Srsly, if you don’t answer me in fifteen minutes, I’m flying to Houston._

 

He waits another fifteen for a response that never comes, and then says, “I’m heading out. Bruce can be pissed off at me if he wants.”

 

“I’ve received a notification for air traffic control in Houston,” Jarvis says. “SHIELD asked for permission to land.”

 

“How far out are they?” Tony asks.

 

“At least three hours, sir,” Jarvis replies. “Since the helicarrier is off the Pacific coast, you should beat them there, but not by much.”

 

Tony nods. “Call ahead to the hotel. Tell them to get their surveillance footage. And call Fury and tell him I want everything they’ve got on the kidnapping threats. Tell him I’ll sever all contact with SHIELD if I don’t get it—right after I save their asses.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

Tony pushes the suit as fast as it can go, but even then, it isn’t fast enough. His imagination is filling in the blanks of all the things that could happen to Bruce—or Natasha—in the meantime.

 

He has no intention of leaving Bruce in enemy hands for three months, but a lot can happen in a very short period of time.

 

Tony lands with a clank outside the hotel, ignoring the stares and surprised exclamations of the dozen or so people on the street.  He stalks inside to find an older man in a suit rushing over to greet him. “Mr. Stark!” he exclaims. “Morris Fineman. We were told to expect you. I have the surveillance footage ready.”

 

“I need a room to change, and I need access to the server where you have the footage,” Tony replies. “Every minute counts.”

 

“Of course,” Fineman replies. “Right this way, sir.”

 

Using the quick release system on the suit is never Tony’s preference, since that makes it a lot harder to get back into later. But that’s a problem for the future.

 

Fineman leads Tony into a back office where some no-neck is bristling. “There’s no indication that any of our guests are missing,” he says as soon as Fineman enters the room. “This is all a lot of fuss over nothing.”

 

“Okay, fine,” Tony snaps. “You find Dr. Banner and Ms. Rushman, and I’ll leave, but not a moment before.”

 

“Who do you think you are?” he demands.

 

Fineman clears his throat. “Mr. Corwin, this is Tony Stark. Dr. Banner is an employee of Stark Industries, as is Ms. Rushman.”

 

Corwin is not appeased. “I’ll hand over the footage to the appropriate government agency and no one else.”

 

“I work for the damn government agency,” Tony shoots back, temper and fear making his voice sharp.

 

Corwin sneers. “How do you know they didn’t go out to lunch? Maybe they’ve turned off their phones so they can get lucky.”

 

If the circumstances had been different, Tony would have laughed in the man’s face, but he’s hanging onto his temper by his fingernails right now, and he doesn’t have time for this guy’s idiocy.

 

“Have you done a search?” Tony demands tightly, his hands clenching into fists. “Because both of their phones are still in the hotel, and Dr. Banner has received threats. He wouldn’t leave it behind, and he wouldn’t refuse to answer.”

 

“My men are going floor by floor,” Corwin says stiffly, face flushing. “It’s a big hotel.”

 

“And if you get me the surveillance footage, it will go that much faster,” Tony snaps. “Starting with any cameras for the hallway of their room.”

 

“I’m not giving it to you,” Corwin says with a stubborn jut to his chin. “You don’t have any authority here.”

 

Tony gets right up into his face. “Try me, Corwin. Just fucking try me, because I have no problem ending you.”

 

“Mr. Stark!”

 

Tony recognizes Fury’s roar, but he doesn’t back off. He waits until he sees fear enter Corwin’s eyes, and then he takes a half step back.

 

“So nice of you to join us,” Tony says. “When were you going to let me know they were missing?”

 

“We weren’t sure of that ourselves,” Fury replies evenly. “Back off.”

 

“Not until we find them,” Tony shoots back. “I want that footage, and I want it yesterday.”

 

“Mr. Corwin, give Stark what he wants, and make a copy for my agents as well,” Fury orders, his voice a low growl. “And do it yesterday.”

 

Corwin glowers, but he apparently knows enough to respect superior firepower when he sees it. “It’ll just be a moment.”

 

“You know what, never mind,” Tony says. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Under the circumstances, he doesn’t mind showing off, or throwing his weight around—not that he ever minds doing either—but doing so now takes his mind off what’s probably happening to Bruce and Natasha.

 

It’s the work of a moment to decimate the hotel’s laughable security and retrieve the footage. He hacks into the hotel’s wi-fi and sends it to Jarvis. “Done. Jarvis will find out where and when they were taken.”

 

Fury’s eye narrows. “Stark, with me. Corwin, keep searching.”

 

“They’re not in the hotel,” Tony says, only following Fury because he wants answers. “You know that.”

 

“I know that,” Fury agrees. “But having Corwin looking for them will keep him out of our hair, and will probably keep you out of jail.”

 

“He’s lucky I didn’t break his nose,” Tony mutters.

 

“Do that, and I’ll throw you in a holding cell until this is over,” Fury threatens. “And don’t think I won’t.”

 

Tony scowls. “You didn’t answer my question. When were you going to tell me?”

 

“When I had confirmation,” Fury replies. “Which I still don’t have. Where’s your suit?”

 

“Parked in a locked room,” Tony says.

 

“I’ll send a couple of SHIELD agents to collect it,” Fury replies. “You’re going home.”

 

Tony stops dead. “Fuck that.”

 

Fury whirls. “Tell me: where can you be of more use? Here, irritating the hotel staff and being a pain in the ass, or looking over all the information we’ve got, plus the hotel surveillance footage, so you can find Banner?”

 

Tony’s pissed off just on general principle. “And I ask again, when were you going to tell me?”

 

“As soon as we got confirmation,” Fury replies. “No reason to worry you unnecessarily.”

 

Tony can think of several potent curses, but he holds them back. He’s fully aware that Fury _will_ arrest him, and that won’t do Bruce any good.

 

Fury leads them to the black SUV sitting out front, and Tony catches sight of Clint leaning against the door. “Mr. Stark,” he says.

 

“Mr. Barton,” Tony replies.

 

Clint loses his air of insouciance suddenly, his gaze sharp. “Tasha is the best. She’ll get them out of this.”

 

Tony’s shoulders sag at the acknowledgement that they’re missing, and Clint is the first person who has offered reassurance.

 

“Once the other agents have loaded Mr. Stark’s armor, I need you to fly him back to California with a response team,” Fury orders as Tony scowls. “Stay with him until he’s got the answers we need.”

 

Clint nods. “Yes, sir.”

 

Tony knows Fury is trying to control him, and he chafes, even though he knows that Fury is right. He can do more with his own equipment, and Jarvis will be able to analyze the footage faster than human eyes. Tony can review the information from SHIELD on the flight.

 

Once the suit is loaded into the SUV, they head back to the Quinjet, with the information from SHIELD on Tony’s tablet. Tony ignores everything else in favor of working the problem, and Clint doesn’t make a sound.

 

If he had to be stuck with any of the Avengers other than Bruce, Clint is probably the one Tony would have chosen under the circumstances. Clint is as disinclined to small talk as he is to pep talks, unlike, say, Steve.

 

And there’s at least a small part of him that knows Clint and the others are right—Natasha is the best. If anyone can get Bruce out of this mess, it’s her.

 

That’s not making him feel any better, though.

 

By the time they land on the helipad at Malibu—it’s a tight fit, but Clint manages—Tony at least has a slightly better idea of what they’re facing.

 

Stupidly, he’d believed SHIELD capable of protecting Bruce, and he’d been so pissed off that Bruce was willing to take the risk, Tony hadn’t poked into it as thoroughly as he could have.

 

Really, Tony should have begun this investigation as soon as Bruce had said “kidnapping,” so now he’s pissed off at Bruce _and_ himself.

 

“Look, I’m going to get some work done,” Tony tells Clint, who follows him into the house; the other SHIELD agents stay outside, grouped around the Quinjet. “You can sit in the lab, or make yourself at home. There’s probably food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

 

Clint nods. “Can I help?”

 

“Probably not,” Tony says. “But I’ll have Jarvis page you if that changes.”

 

Clint waves a hand. “Yeah, sure. I’ll make sure your armor gets unloaded.”

 

Tony doesn’t bother replying. He’s got work to do.

 

~~~~~

 

There’s a terrible taste in Natasha’s mouth, her head aches, and her memories are fractured and uncertain. She takes a moment to assess the situation before moving; a subtle tensing of her muscles indicates that she’s not restrained. She’s lying on her side on a thin, lumpy mattress, and there’s a warm hand resting on her shoulder, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. The gentle, reassuring touch tells her they’re probably not in any immediate danger.

 

She stirs, not opening her eyes, and identifies the voice as belonging to Bruce. “Natalie,” he says quietly. “It’s okay, darling. Open your eyes for me.”

 

If the name hadn’t been clue enough for her sluggish mind, the endearment would have been, and his solicitous tone is both warning and reassurance. Wherever they are, their captors think that they’re romantic partners, and Bruce wants to continue that fiction.

 

“What happened?” she asks.

 

“We were gassed,” Bruce replies as she blinks her eyes open. “How are you feeling?”

 

“A little sick,” she replies, and it’s both truth and lie, because she _does_ feel sick, but she’s not nearly as weak as she’s made her voice sound.

 

On the other hand, she’s more than a little freaked out about being trapped in a small room with Bruce, who could lose control at any moment.

 

Bruce gives her a tight smile, and closes a hand around her wrist, apparently taking her pulse. “The sickness will pass,” he promises. “Your pulse is strong, and I don’t think there are any long term effects.”

 

He helps her sit up, giving more aid than she needs, and Natasha looks around at the bare cell. There’s nothing, only a pallet on the floor that they’re currently sharing, and a door on one wall. There are no windows, and the fluorescent lights make Bruce look sallow and ill. She doubts she looks much better, and she runs a hand through her hair.

 

“How are you?” she asks.

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “I’m a little angry, to be honest, but I’m holding it together.”

 

Natasha leans her head against Bruce’s shoulder, keeping up appearances. “It’s going to be okay,” she says. “We’ll get out of this.”

 

Bruce brushes his lips against the top of her head, and presses a kiss to her cheek for cover. “Last resort,” he murmurs.

 

Natasha nods against him, grateful both that Bruce has maintained control so far, and that he’s still capable of letting the Hulk out.

 

The Hulk cannot be reliably counted upon not to smash his teammates, except for Iron Man, for whom the Hulk seems to have an inexplicable fondness.

 

Still, as a last resort, it’s not bad. At least their captors won’t be getting out of it alive.

 

“They don’t know?” she breathes.

 

Bruce offers a minute shake of his head, just enough to imply a negative, and she asks, “What do they want?”

 

“They want a gamma bomb,” Bruce replies, loud enough for the surveillance to pick up his answer. “They seem to think I can build one.”

 

She’s feeling stronger by the minute, and she knows that the longer their captors wait to greet them, the better chance they have of escaping on their first attempt. “How long was I out?” she asks.

 

“I don’t know. I think it’s been at least a day since they kidnapped us, maybe more,” Bruce says. “I told them I wouldn’t help until I knew you were going to be okay.”

 

“I just need a little longer,” Natasha says.

 

Bruce’s grip around her shoulders tightens, and she never thought she’d be so grateful to have Bruce for company. Other than Clint, she can’t think of anybody else she’d rather have been kidnapped with—Clint, because she knows he can take care of himself. Bruce, because there’s very little anyone can do to permanently harm him.

 

If necessary, Bruce will unleash his rage and smash his way out of here, leaving Natasha to follow in his wake. More likely, Natasha will use her considerable skills to break both of them out.

 

Either way, they’ll make people think twice about taking them on.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s working on tracing the threatening emails while Jarvis runs facial recognition on the surveillance footage, when Pepper enters the workshop, her expression full of sympathy. “I just heard.”

 

“How?” Tony asks, wondering if he should have called her.

 

“Jarvis called me,” Pepper admits. “How are you doing?”

 

“I’m working, but I don’t have any answers yet,” Tony admits. “I don’t have much to go on, and these guys were smart enough to cover their tracks.”

 

Pepper lays her hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Tony.”

 

His name holds a wealth of meaning, and Tony closes his eyes. “They got Bruce _and_ Natasha. I didn’t even think that was possible.”

 

He leaves unsaid the fact that if they had managed to get to both of them, it might already be too late—even if everyone is under the impression that the Hulk is impossible to kill.

 

“Natasha is the best,” Pepper reminds him gently. “And Bruce is—” She pauses.

 

“I know what he is,” Tony replies, a bit too sharply, and then rubs his eyes.

 

Pepper leans against his worktable. “You still haven’t convinced him, have you?”

 

Tony shakes his head. “But I think I was wearing him down.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Pepper teases.

 

Tony’s grateful for her friendship, even if their romance had fizzled. Pepper has always been there for him, through everything, and he suddenly realizes exactly why Pepper might be so sympathetic.

 

“I get it now,” Tony says quietly after a long silence.

 

She raises an eyebrow. “Get what?”

 

“How you must have felt.” He doesn’t need to be more specific; neither of them talks about Afghanistan, or what had happened there, not even after one of his horrendous nightmares.

 

“It was worse for me back then,” Pepper muses thoughtfully.

 

Tony huffs out a breath. “How’s that?”

 

“Well, I didn’t know you were a superhero at the time,” Pepper points out with wry humor. “And I thought you were alone.”

 

“There’s a lot that can happen between capture and escape,” Tony says bleakly, which is as close as he ever gets to talking about what happened to him.

 

Pepper makes a sympathetic noise and pulls him into a hug. “They’re going to be okay.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Tony complains.

 

“No, I _believe_ that,” Pepper replies, pressing her lips to Tony’s temple.

 

Tony holds her tightly, relishing the human contact. As much as he might like to believe that he doesn’t need anybody, he needs Pepper, and he needs Bruce. He’s glad to have one of them right now.

 

“Do you want me to stay?” she asks after a moment.

 

Tony shakes his head. “I need to work.”

 

Pepper nods. “I’ll send Clint down with more coffee,” she promises.

 

Clint pokes his head in the door half an hour later with a carafe in one hand and a couple of mugs in another. “Just so you know, I’m not your errand boy,” he says.

 

“Blame Pepper not me,” Tony replies smugly. “She’s the one who suggested it.”

 

“I swear that woman could convince a miser to part with his last dollar,” Clint says.

 

Tony smiles. “Why do you think I put her in charge?” He pours a cup of coffee and asks, “Jarvis? What’s the progress on the facial recognition.”

 

“The people who kidnapped Dr. Banner and Agent Romanoff are not in any known database,” Jarvis replies, sounding regretful.

 

“What about unknown databases?” Clint asks.

 

“I checked those, too,” Jarvis says, sounding a little hurt. “However, Carl Bowen used to work for a medical research facility in New Mexico that’s since gone out of business. His brother, Ambrose, is tied to a domestic terrorism group. Carl has recently purchased gas near his old place of work, and he was heading in that direction as best I can tell. And one of the men in the surveillance footage matches the description of a known associate of Ambrose Bowen.”

 

“Ready my suit,” Tony orders, and turns to Clint. “How soon can you be there?”

 

Clint’s already half out the door. “You’ve got five minutes,” he replies. “Longer than that, and we’ll leave you behind.”

 

Tony’s already moving.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce has no idea how much time has passed since he woke up in the cell, since their captors had taken his watch and cell phone, along with everything else in his pockets. He’s fairly certain that the Other Guy is the reason he’s conscious before Natasha, especially since she doesn’t stir at all when three men come in to threaten him.

 

From that interaction, it becomes painfully obvious that they have no idea what they’re dealing with. They haven’t tried to restrain Natasha, for one, and they make no reference to the Other Guy.

 

And they somehow think that Bruce would be willing to build a bomb that will kill hundreds of thousands of people in order to save one life—not that Natasha would let him make that choice.

 

Bruce keeps a tight rein his anger, and feigns fear. “I’m not doing anything until she wakes up, and I know she’s going to be okay,” he insists.

 

“Fine,” the man in the lead says. He hasn’t given Bruce his name, and Bruce isn’t sure he cares. He doubts the man is going to be alive for much longer.

 

Not that he can unleash the Other Guy while in such close quarters with Natasha; he won’t do that to her again.

 

There’s not a lot that Natasha fears, but Bruce still remembers her expression when he’d threatened her in Kolkata with his temper. She’d been scared then, and then again on the helicarrier, and he suspects she’s never going to be completely comfortable with the Other Guy.

 

They’re left alone after that, but Bruce has to assume that they have surveillance cameras in the room, as quickly as they’d shown up after he awoke. That means Bruce will have to make sure they keep up the appearance of being in a relationship.

 

His anger simmers just under the surface, but he sits next to Natasha, rubbing her shoulder the way any concerned boyfriend might.

 

When she stirs, Bruce says, “Natalie, it’s okay, darling. Open your eyes for me.”

 

She catches on immediately, even though her mind has to be foggy from the gas, and she seems to shake off the aftereffects quickly. Although she leans heavily against him, Bruce can feel her flexing her muscles, readying herself.

 

The minutes tick by, and they don’t speak until Natasha whispers, “Any time now.”

 

Bruce doesn’t smile, although he wants to, knowing that means Natasha is ready to take on their kidnappers.

 

There’s the faintest sound at the door, and she murmurs, “Stay behind me.”

 

The door opens, and Natasha bursts into motion, crossing the floor in a low crouch. The first guard is unconscious before he so much as brings his gun up to bear. Natasha grabs the gun and does a complicated flip, catching the second man on the temple with her heel, knocking him to the ground, spinning to catch the third man on the head with the butt of the gun.

 

That’s just the beginning; Natasha doesn’t even break a sweat as she takes out guard after guard, with Bruce close behind her. He grabs an assault rifle just in case, because a gun is going to be more precise than the Other Guy.

 

He’s determined not to give Natasha another reason to fear him.

 

Bruce hears footsteps behind him, and he whirls, smashing the butt of his rifle into the guard’s face. They’re not very well trained, he thinks, not if Bruce can get the drop on them.

 

When he turns again, Natasha is taking out one guard while another has his gun trained on her. Bruce doesn’t hesitate before firing, hitting the guard in center mass.

 

“Nice shooting,” Natasha says, looking just a bit impressed.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I’ve picked up a few things over the years.”

 

“I think that might be the end of them,” Natasha says, looking around cautiously. She’s not even breathing hard, and she doesn’t have a scratch on her.

 

Their captors haven’t been that lucky. Natasha has killed at least half a dozen, with that many more unconscious or seriously injured.

 

The tiled floors and institutional gray walls suggest a research facility, apparently abandoned, and a glance outside shows sand and scrub and a bright blue sky. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were in New Mexico,” Bruce observes

 

Natasha nods, a gun in each hand. “See if you can find a phone to call for a ride out of here.”

 

Bruce trusts her to watch his back as he rifles through the pockets of the men who had been guarding the facility, although he stays alert, nursing his simmering rage. There’s still the possibility of running up against a problem only the Other Guy can solve, and he’ll be ready if that’s the case.

 

It takes him longer than he expects to find a phone since most of the guards aren’t carrying electronic devices of any sort. He finally finds a Stark Phone on one of the younger unconscious guards, and he’s amused at the irony as he dials Tony’s number. It’s one of the few he has memorized.

 

“Hello? Who is this?” Tony demands.

 

“Hey, Tony,” Bruce replies. “Sorry to bother you, but we could use some help with clean up.”

 

“Not clean up, retrieval,” Natasha corrects him.

 

Bruce grins. “Did you catch that?”

 

“I’m on my way,” Tony replies. “Jarvis had already determined your location, and Clint’s a few minutes behind me with the Quinjet.”

 

“Great,” Bruce replies. “Thanks.”

 

“You okay?” Tony asks, a plaintive note in his voice.

 

He smiles. “Not a scratch on me, or on Natasha.”

 

“Good,” Tony replies. “I’d hate to have to kill a bunch of people just to get to you.”

 

“No, Natasha already did that,” Bruce jokes. “The rest of them won’t wake up for a while.”

 

“Let me know if you have to move positions,” Tony orders. “I’ll come to you.”

 

Bruce stands back to back with Natasha, his rifle cocked and ready.

 

“I didn’t know you knew how to handle a weapon,” Natasha says.

 

Bruce assumes that she’s making conversation to pass the time, and he smiles ruefully. “I dated the daughter of a general. I learned how to use a gun, mostly out of self-defense.”

 

“But you learned how to shoot,” Natasha counters. “Your aim is impressive.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “It’s a skill like any other.”

 

Natasha smiles at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to work for SHIELD?”

 

“SHIELD can’t pay me enough,” Bruce jokes. “You don’t want to know how much Tony’s giving me.”

 

Natasha grins knowingly over her shoulder. “Is that all Tony’s giving you?”

 

Bruce blushes, but doesn’t answer her.

 

Tony comes striding into the facility a few minutes later, armor clanking on the tile floor, and he flips up his faceplate. “You guys good?” he asks, looking both of them over as though searching for injury.

 

“We’re good,” Natasha insists, and glances at Bruce. “I think I’ll go check the perimeter.”

 

“It’s secure,” Tony says. “I checked before I came in, and there should be reinforcements shortly.”

 

Natasha shrugs. “I’d like to see for myself.”

 

“She could trust me to do my job,” Tony grumbles as she leaves.

 

Bruce shakes his head, smiling. “I think she’s giving us some time alone.”

 

Tony grimaces. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Tony, I’m fine,” Bruce insists, closing the small distance between them and touching Tony’s cheek, the only exposed part he can reach with Tony in the suit. “I was with Natasha the whole time.”

 

Tony shakes his head. “I know, I just—”

 

The sound of the Quinjet landing outside interrupts them. “That was fast,” Bruce observes when it seems Tony isn’t going to say more.

 

“I told you, we were both already en route by the time you called. I jumped ship when I realized I could get here faster.” He takes a step back and flips the faceplate down. “I’ll meet you back on the helicarrier. You’re going to need a ride home.”

 

He’s gone before Bruce can object, and Bruce shakes his head, knowing that it will be hours before he’ll have the chance to talk to Tony alone again.

 

Bruce rubs his eyes, suddenly exhausted, and he trudges outside just in time to see Clint exit the Quinjet behind half a dozen SHIELD agents who pass Bruce to jog inside the building. Clint stays next to the jet, and he and Natasha share a very intense look, although they don’t touch.

 

Clint suddenly grins. “I see you’re still performing up to your usual standards.”

 

Natasha smiles in return. “I had a little help.”

 

Clint glances at Bruce. “Dr. Banner, always a pleasure.”

 

“Agent Barton.” Bruce shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s exhausted and grimy, and wants nothing more than a shower and a change of clothes, but he grins with the sheer pleasure of making it out alive.

 

“We’d better get going,” Clint says. “Fury wants to debrief you both as soon as possible.”

 

Bruce falls into a light doze during the flight, waking when they land with a bump. He and Natasha walk shoulder to shoulder on the way to the conference room, finding Fury and Agent Hill waiting for them.

 

“Where’s Stark?” Fury asks first thing.

 

“He said he was going to meet me here,” Bruce replies. “He didn’t show?”

 

Hill rolled her eyes. “This _is_ Stark we’re talking about.”

 

Bruce frowns, but decides that arguing with her will just prolong the debriefing, and Bruce thinks he’d best get back to Tony as soon as possible.

 

The debriefing takes hours, as they each give their version of events, and then Fury asks his questions, pulling every nuance out of them. Bruce admires his thoroughness, even if he just wants it to be over.

 

“At least you stayed in control,” Fury says with a sigh. “Although I think it might be time to leak your identity to the press. The last thing we need is an incident if they try to take you again and aren’t successful knocking you out first.”

 

Bruce shudders to think of what the Other Guy might have done to the hotel in that case.  The Other Guy doesn’t pay much attention to collateral damage when someone’s trying to hurt him.

 

“Do you think they’ll try again?” Bruce asks.

 

Fury shakes his head. “Not this group. You’ve cut the head off the snake. But I don’t think your run of the mill terrorist organization will be interested in someone who could smash them to a pulp.”

 

Bruce nods. “I knew I couldn’t fly under the radar forever.” He feels a pang, knowing that people will look at him differently when his identity becomes widely known.

 

Well, everyone but the people in this room, and Tony. Tony has always treated him like a real person, and he’s never shown the slightest amount of fear.

 

“You’re welcome to stay here tonight, Dr. Banner,” Fury offers.

 

Bruce winces. “Ah, I think Tony said something about giving me a ride.”

 

Just then, a young agent sticks her head into the room. “Dr. Banner? Mr. Stark sent a helicopter for you.”

 

Fury waves a hand. “Get out of here before Tony shows up to collect you himself.”

 

Natasha walks Bruce out to the flight deck. The moon hangs low over the Pacific, and the stars are bright and clear overhead.

 

“Thanks,” Bruce says. “Really.”

 

She smiles in return. “I never knew scientific conferences could be so exciting.”

 

“I’d rather be bored,” he admits. “Still.”

 

“Glad I could be there, Dr. Banner,” she replies. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

 

“You, too, Agent Romanoff,” Bruce says, and then jogs across to the chopper, staying low, and keeping his arm raised to avoid grit getting thrown into his eyes.

 

The flight feels long, and is made longer by the strong desire to see Tony, to make sure he’s okay. When he lands outside of Tony’s home, Bruce shakes his head, wondering that this is his life now. Kidnapping, shooting people, flying on private helicopters—it’s all becoming strangely normal.

 

Pepper meets him at the door, even though it’s past 2 am, and she probably has to be awake again in a couple of hours. He’s a little surprised when she folds him into a hard hug.

 

“It’s good to see you in one piece,” she says. “Tony’s in the garage. I didn’t want to leave him by himself, and I leave early tomorrow for Denver.”

 

Bruce nods, getting the message. “I’ll look after him.”

 

“I know you will,” she says and presses another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

 

Bruce has been at the Malibu house a few times now, and he finds his way to the garage easily. Tony is flinging pieces of a holographic model around with one hand, a tumbler of amber liquid in the other.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Nice of you to join me,” Tony says.

 

“Fury had to get the full story,” Bruce replies. “Thanks for sending the chopper. You know how much I hate being on the helicarrier.”

 

“You hate choppers, too.”

 

“I hate the helicarrier more.” Bruce takes a step closer, walking through the hologram, reaching out to seize Tony’s empty hand. “Nothing happened, Tony. They knocked us out, threatened to kill Natasha if I didn’t help them, and then Natasha killed most of them.”

 

Tony shrugs and looks away, his expression guarded and unhappy. “I get it. You’re fine.”

 

“But you’re not,” Bruce murmurs, and plucks the glass out of Tony’s other hand, setting it down on his workbench. “Hey. C’mon. Talk to me.”

 

Tony turns to glare at him. “You’re not the only person involved here, you know?”

 

Bruce frowns. “I’m not sure I understand.”

 

“If something happens to you, if you get kidnapped or killed or whatever, it’s not just you,” Tony says fiercely. “Do you get that?”

 

“You’re pissed off,” Bruce observes in wonder.

 

Tony sneers. “What gave you that idea?”

 

“Your unusually bad attitude,” Bruce says, trying to play it off like a joke, but he can tell that Tony isn’t buying it, and he pulls free.

 

Bruce tries again. “I get it, Tony. I do.”

 

“I don’t think you do,” Tony says belligerently. “You knew the threat, and you—I should have—”

 

Bruce wraps a hand around the back of Tony’s neck. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. It’s not your fault, and I’m sorry I took the risk. Come to bed. I’m exhausted.”

 

There’s something raw in Tony’s gaze. “So, you’re sleeping with me now?”

 

“Tonight I am,” Bruce replies, and knows that the time for waiting is over. It’s time to take the plunge. Tony’s right about one thing: they’re both in this together.

 

“And tomorrow night?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce smiles. “Probably then, too.”

 

And then Bruce pulls Tony to him, holding him tightly, feeling the hard ridge of the arc reactor under Tony’s shirt, and Tony holds him back with the same desperate need.

 

“It’s all right,” Bruce murmurs. “We’re all okay. Let’s go to bed.”

 

He drags Tony along with him to Tony’s room, since it’s closer to the lab. Jarvis keeps the lights dim and restful. “I need a shower,” Bruce says ruefully. “I probably stink.”

 

Tony seems to have recovered some of his sense of humor. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but—”

 

Bruce huffs out a laugh. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

 

“You sure you don’t want company?” Tony asks.

 

“Ah, well, I guess?” Bruce replies hesitantly. He’s used to being naked around people, but that’s a totally different context.

 

“If you don’t want me to—”

 

“No,” Bruce says quickly. “No, that’s, yeah. Okay. You—we should.”

 

Tony grins, his confidence restored. “We absolutely should.”

 

Bruce gratefully strips out of his grubby clothing and leaves it in a pile on the floor. “My luggage is still at the hotel.”

 

“I’ll have Jarvis tell them to send it here,” Tony replies, pulling off his t-shirt and shimmying out of his jeans.

 

Bruce turns the water on and pointedly doesn’t look at Tony. It’s been so long, he’s nearly forgotten how this works.

 

“Is it that hard?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce turns. “It’s been a long time, Tony. I just—come here. It’s easier when I’m touching you.”

 

“Now that’s what a guy wants to hear,” Tony jokes, but he steps into the shower, and Bruce pulls him into a tight embrace. It’s wet skin on wet skin, and Tony presses his face into the side of Bruce’s neck.

 

“Promise me,” Tony grinds out.

 

Bruce doesn’t have to ask. “Promise.” He begins to run his hands up and down Tony’s back. “Fury wants to leak my identity to the press, make it less likely for people to want to deal with me.”

 

“I’ll always want to deal with you,” Tony replies. He shifts his hips so that his erection is rubbing against Bruce’s hip. “But if other people leave you alone because of Jolly Green, I’m all for it.”

 

Bruce is distracted by Tony’s reaction. “This is moving a little fast,” he admits. “Tony, I don’t think I can—I’m too close.”

 

Tony pulls back slightly. “Yeah. Of course. Not that I mind, but—”

 

Bruce cuts him off by grabbing Tony’s dick, and jacking him off slowly. “Maybe I can’t, but you can.”

 

He presses Tony against the wall, keeping up a steady rhythm, his mouth on Tony’s neck, and Tony sighs, and threads his fingers through Bruce’s wet hair. “Good thing I’m a selfish bastard,” he murmurs. “God, Bruce, _your hands_.”

 

Bruce grabs Tony’s ass with his other hand and squeezes hard, feeling Tony’s hips jerk as he comes.

 

“Well, that was embarrassingly fast,” he mutters.

 

Bruce grins against Tony’s shoulder. “Gratifying, you mean.”

 

“Yes, fine,” Tony agrees. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for putting yourself at risk.”

 

Bruce pulls back to look Tony in the eye, because there’s one thing that he knows they need to be absolutely clear on. “If it’s a choice between risking my own skin, and risking yours, it’s always going to be me, and don’t pretend you wouldn’t say the same.”

 

Tony’s expression darkens; his post-coital recovery time is impressive. “That’s what Fury said to get you to do this.”

 

“Yeah, but he was right,” Bruce counters. “You know that.”

 

“Bruce—”

 

“It’s never going to be three months for me,” Bruce insists, interrupting. “And they won’t be able to touch me, Tony. And maybe you were right about the Other Guy, because he’s always an option; he’s always going to save my life.”

 

Tony sighs. “Yeah, I get it.”

 

“Come on,” Bruce says. “I’m exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”

 

They get dried off and collapse into bed, and Tony hauls Bruce close, Bruce’s back against Tony’s front. Bruce doesn’t complain. It’s really nice to share a bed with someone again.

 

“Hey,” Bruce says. “I get it, you know. It’s not just me I have to think about, and you found us, and we’re okay, no harm done.”

 

Tony’s only response is to tighten his grip.

 

“Sleep,” Bruce says, threading his fingers through Tony’s. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll be here tomorrow, too.”

 

And as Tony’s breathing evens out Bruce lets it lull him to sleep, in perfect peace.


End file.
